Year of the Half-Blooded
by fourm
Summary: Harry is unhappy with his lot in life, and his name being pulled from the goblet of fire only makes this worse. That said, personal tragedy is far from reserved for Harry. When a school catering to half-creature wizards in Italy is burnt down by blood purists, survivors have no choice but to come to Hogwarts. Ensemble story, rated M for Violence, Language, and maybe sexual themes.
1. Monsters, Freaks, and Abominations

Prologue/Chapter 1: Monsters, Freaks, and Abominations

4 Privet Drive, 1981, a cloudy night in autumn.

"I won't have that bloody freak staying under our roof!" shouted Vernon Dursley. Perhaps it was the brandy he had been drinking, or perhaps he just had a predisposition to rage against what he saw as unnatural, but the small boy with a lightning-shaped scar wasn't welcome in his house. For that matter, neither was the old man with the long white beard and lurid robes.

"You are his only family," replied Albus Dumbledore calmly. "His parents have just been killed by terrorists, and anyone else who would take him is no longer capable."

"I won't have it!" shouted Vernon, not listening. "Good riddance his parents were killed for all the good your 'magic' has done!"

This drew the attention of Dumbledore. He may not have been especially close with James and Lily, but hearing their memories cursed in such a manner irked him. He needed young Harry to be raised here, away from his fame, so that he would willingly rise to the challenge of facing Voldemort's inevitable return. It seemed that ensuring Sirius' imprisonment would not be the most difficult part of his plans after all. Dumbledore stood, drawing himself to his full height. He was not especially tall, but he still towered over Vernon who would struggle to reach six feet with a step ladder. The twinkle in his eyes gone, he struck an imposing figure in the small room.

Dursley was still raving, but his wife looked on fearfully cradling her small boy. The wizard snapped his fingers and all sound in the room was gone. This did get the attention of Vernon, and it frightened him.

"You will listen to me," Albus said simply. He spoke with gravity, not needing threats or even a raised voice to back his command. "You will take this child, and you will raise him. Your nephew will attend Hogwarts when he turns eleven, and he will have a home here at least until his seventeenth birthday, when he becomes a legal adult in the wizarding world. See all this done. I have no wish to return here. It would be unwise to force my hand."

Vernon, as drunk and apoplectic and utterly stupid as he was, understood by some primal instinct. This man before him, now preparing to leave, this Albus Dumbledore, could reduce him to ash at a moment's notice. As he came to this revelation, Dumbledore turned on a dime and was gone. Vernon slumped in his easy chair with relief.

A baby's wailing then caught the attention of Vernon and Petunia Dursley. This gave Vernon pause. He mightn't be able to stand against that man, but he could handle a child. He could handle a child _easily._

* * *

A church on the Cliffs of Moher, 1813, summer, before dawn.

Church bells rang loudly in the old cathedral, drowning out the cries of a young woman. She struggled against the men holding her shoulders and arms and tried to rise from her kneeling position.

"Where is my baby?" she screamed. "Please, take me instead, do what you will, but my baby boy is innocent!"

The ivory walls and gold plating echoed the ringing bells and the wails of the young mother.

"Innocent, you say?" an old man questioned, holding up a hand to halt the bells. He was dressed in white robes and had little hair. His face was crinkled with lines formed by decades of frowning, and if his eyes had ever had color they were now whitewashed with cataracts.

"I believe," he said, still over the cries of the woman, "That being a child of Lucifer is condemnation enough. Curiosity was always woman's greatest folly. You doomed this child the moment you conceived it."

"Please, no!" the woman cried. "Please!"

"I am not the one you should beg," the man said. "I am but an arbiter of the lord's will. This bastard child is already born out of wedlock, a product of adultery, but for his father to be an agent of the devil?"

"No, he isn't any of that, please, give me back my baby, he doesn't even have a name yet," the woman whimpered.

"Isn't he?" the priest asked. "How else would you explain what he can do?"

"This harlot," he said, now raising his voice, "would have us good, God-fearing people believe that it is completely natural the way the man acts. A man who can hold lightning in his hands without a twitch, who walked through the burning ruins of another of our congregations with no burns, who jumped from the Cliffs of Moher without injury."

Cheers came up from the crowd. Torches were lit, and the congregation moved out behind the church to a bonfire on the cliffs. The priest, guided by his altar-hands, made his way shakily to a dais.

"Bring her here," he commanded, hoisting a branding rod. "Expose her back"

The men who were still restraining the woman forced her to the platform and ripped open the back of her shirt.

The priest, cross-shaped brand in hand, put all his weight into the thrust, ignoring the woman's screams, first for the freedom of her child but soon for an end to the excruciating pain. When he released her, she slumped to the ground, dead from shock and pain and burns with a cross burnt an inch into her back.

"The father of this bastard child," the priest continued. One of his attendants handed him a child in swaddling clothes. "Is a demon and a plague on County Clare. He cannot be killed and cannot be hindered. He cannot be harmed by bullets or lightning or fire, can cleave trees with his bare hands and can fall from height without a scratch."

The townspeople jeered.

"Famously, he jumped from the Cliffs of Moher where we now stand," the priest continued. "He was uninjured, an insult to anyone of sense. We will see now if his son shares this ability."

With the burning fire beside him and turning away from the mother he had just slain, the priest hurled the baby with as much force as he could muster. It fell wailing, until it could not be heard. The townsfolk rushed to the edge of the cliff and peered off it.

"He's been dashed on the rocks!" they cheered.

Lightning flashed overhead, and it began to rain. The bonfire was soon out.

"Return to your homes," the priest ordered. "God's work has been done here today. We have rid the world of a great evi-

The priest disappeared from view under a mass of dark scales and a fountain of blood. Lightning illuminated the leathery, bat-like wings and a pair of horns longer than the spokes of a wagon. The purple eyes of this creature, however, were luminous all on their own. It opened its mouth, and green fire could be seen at the rear of its throat. The townspeople scattered, but those unlucky enough to be trampled or otherwise incapable of leaving observed not a torrent of flame from the giant reptile but a voice dripping with quiet rage.

"Ubi filius mea est?" it rumbled. More of the townsfolk gathered their wits and scrambled away from the dragon.

Only one was left to hear it switch to English. A small boy who had been forced to watch the gruesome murder of a mother and child by his parents.

"Where is my son?" the dragon asked again.

The boy answered, frightened but not yet learned enough to understand that being spoken to by such a creature should be an impossibility. He stood up and pointed towards the cliff.

The dragon craned its neck over the edge of the cliff. It was the same cliff he had jumped off of in his human form to save a drowning swimmer. Peering down, he saw blood on the rocks and the bundle of swaddling clothes flattened against the shore. Lightning flashed again and sparked off the scales of the dragon. He turned to the boy again.

"te solum necare comparcam"

Historians would later wonder how an entire town had been seemingly reduced to ash in one night, and why there was so much iron residue in the scorch marks on the ground.

(A/N: Latin translation: "I will refrain from killing you alone.")

* * *

4 Privet Drive, 1991, Harry's eleventh birthday.

Harry languished under the hot sun. His frail torso could be seen dripping sweat into the garden. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and the sweat made the white lines crisscrossing his back gleam unnaturally.

"Hurry up boy, or you won't eat!" harped a wispy-looking woman from the window.

"Yes, Aunt Petunia, right away," Harry replied.

He had been taking his time because he actually enjoyed working the garden. He was unlikely to be bothered by his whale of a cousin or walruslike uncle while he was among the flowers. The menial labor under the hot sun wasn't as bothersome when it came with peace and quiet. He pulled the last of the weeds from the garden and meandered towards the hose to wash off.

Harry had lived with his Aunt, Uncle and Cousin for as long as he could remember. In that time, he had watched his cousin become more and more spoilt with each passing year while he remained unnoticed except for doing his chores. At school, Dudley scared away all the other children. When Harry tried to tell the teachers about what his life was like with the Dursleys, they all seemed to forget very quickly, some even before he left their offices.

He had accepted his fate, to do chores and sleep in a cupboard his entire life. Maybe someday he'd grow, and the Dursleys would have to make the cupboard bigger. One could dream.

Once he was inside, he made lunch for the Dursleys. Once they had eaten their fill and he had had some scraps, he began to wash the dishes.

The doorbell rang.

"Boy!" shouted Vernon. "Go answer the door."

Harry quickly put down the pan he was washing and scrambled to the door. He opened it with a creak to reveal the strangest-looking man he had ever seen. He wore a black robe, had long, greasy dark hair, and appeared to be in his late thirties.

"Hello," he said with a sneer. "You must be Harry Potter. May I come inside?"

As he said this, Petunia came around the corner.

"You!" she shouted. "Get out of here at once!"

The man's sneer seemed to double.

"Me." he answered. "Believe me, I have no intention of staying longer than is absolutely necessary. I am here to see that this brat receives his Hogwarts letter, and nothing more."

* * *

Hogwarts, 1994, Halloween

"Harry," Hermione pleaded, "We're your best friends. Why won't you tell us how you put your name in the Goblet of Fire?"

Ron looked on angrily.

"How many times do I have to tell you two?" Harry protested. "I didn't put in my own name. I think Moody's right and someone is trying to kill me."

"That's a load of shite," Ron exclaimed. "After all we've done for you, you can't even tell us the truth? Maybe Snape was right about you, you really just want the attention. You've almost gotten me killed every year, and for what? No one ever sees me. The great Harry Potter has saved the day again."

Harry felt his anger rising. "You know better than anyone that I don't go looking for trouble. I was telling you just this morning that I was happy for the year off!"

"Yeah," Ron said. "I bet you can't stand the adoration of the school and the chance at the prize money. I bet it's just eating you up. You know what? Enjoy your damn tournament. I hope Moody's right and someone is trying to kill you, at least then you'll stop putting me in danger."

"I never asked for anyone's help," Harry said quietly, now shaking with anger. "I never asked for yours, and I never asked for Hermione's. Speaking of, you've yet to do anything besides be a hindrance."

"What was that?" Ron shouted. "You think you're above me, that you could do without my help? That you're better than everyone?"

Harry laughed, amazed he hadn't seen through his 'friend' sooner.

"What's so funny?" Ron demanded.

"Ron, all you've ever done is play a bit of chess and nearly collapse a cave on us. You weren't there when I fought to the death against Quirrel, you weren't there when I had to run from a werewolf last year." Harry said. "You weren't even there when I saved the life of your sister from a basilisk the length of a quidditch field. I could have died at any time, but you were always safely removed from the action."

A hint of shame appeared in Ron's eyes at the mention of his sister, but by this point, the damage was done. Harry was through.

"I don't think I'm better than everyone, Ron," Harry continued. "But I hardly need to be better than anyone to be better than you."

Hermione had watched the rest of this exchange in silent horror. When Ron, now red in the face, made to throw a punch at Harry, she tried to hold him back.

She needn't have. Harry smacked Ron's fist away from his face with practiced ease. He turned and made to walk away, still a little bit hysterical from the encounter.

Ron brandished his wand.

"Expelliarmus," the redhead shouted. The spell petered out on the end of his wand.

"Really now," Harry chuckled darkly. "You think you, of all people, could hit me with that charm?"

Harry answered the attack with an Expelliarmus of his own. Ron's wand was flung from his hand, where Hermione scrambled to go retrieve it.

Harry turned back towards his former friends.

"You might think a lot of things about me right now, Ron," Harry said. "But if you really think I got around an age line set by Dumbledore himself, then I must know some pretty advanced magic. I'd hate to waste it on you." He spun on his heel, again facing down the hall away from the furious Ron and shocked Hermione. "I'll be seeing you later, I suppose."

"_Weasel"_

* * *

Underneath Pompeii, 1994, Early November

Flames danced through the tunnels. Two boys stood over the scorched corpse of an old man. One was extremely skinny and dressed mostly in black. The other had an athletic build and was dressed mostly in browns which turned orange in the firelight. The second boy was crouched at the side of the man's corpse.

"Liam, we've gotta go, they're burning down the school," John cried, trying to pry his friend from the corpse of their headmaster.

"You go if you have to," Liam replied. "Flames won't hurt me. I'll kill all those bastards for this."

"Yeah, and what about the others?" John protested. "You're leaving them to fend for themselves? You know how Sasha and Naomi are about fire, and the rest of them could be trapped somewhere in here."

"Fine," Liam agreed. "Vengeance can wait, but not for long. I'll help get everyone out, but then I'm putting Salazar's head in molten tungsten."

"I'm with you, and I'm sure everyone else is too, but we need to get them and get out of here," John pleaded. "How do we find them all?"

"I'll case the open areas with mage sight and get whoever I find to the surface," Liam said. "Can you darkwalk the corridors in the south basin?"

"Sure," John answered. "See you on the surface in twenty."

"See you then," Liam answered.

They dashed in opposite directions. Soon John felt a magical wave and heard a loud voice that was unmistakably Liam's.

"_**Braceros ad nihil**_"

"_**Modus non hominis"**_

John smirked despite the situation. God help any of those purists who ran across his friend now.

* * *

A/N: And scene. I've been fiddling with the ideas behind some of the original characters in this story for the better part of three years. My intention is to have a few main plot lines and several character arcs weaving together in a way reminiscent of Rick Riordan's Heroes of Olympus series. Thank you for reading. If I have made any grammatical errors, or something is worded weirdly, please do not hesitate to DM me or leave a review addressing the problem.

Latin used: I took four years of Latin and competed in Certamen competitions through High School. I have always loved explaining it. After each chapter I will put the Latin used with pronunciation at the bottom for anyone who is interested. Most of the words will be in dictionary form, but I will only include the first two principal parts for verbs because I highly doubt anyone who that knowledge matters to does not already have it. When the word as used in context does not appear in the dictionary form, the use of the word will be given.

ubi? (ooh-bee): where?

filius, fili (fill-lee-oose): son

mea (may-ah): my

est - sum, esse (third person singular present active indicative) (esst, soom, essay): to be. In context: he/she/it is

te - tu, tui (accusative singular) (tay, too, too-ee): you

solum - solus, sola, solum (masculine accusative singular) (so-loose, so-lah, so-loom): alone

neco, necare (nay-coh, nay-car-ay): to kill

comparcam - comparco, comparcere (+ infinitive) (first person future active indicative) (com-par-com, com-par-coh, com-par-care-ay): to refrain from (verb). In context: I will refrain from (verb)

Braceros - I made this word up. If I'm wrong and it's a real word I apologize. I am using it as a second declension accusative plural noun meaning 'bracers'

ad (odd): to

nihil (irreg): nothing

modus, modi (mode-oose, mode-ee): form or way

non (+verb) (+adj): not

homo, hominis (home-oh, homie-niece): man or human

Again, Thanks for Reading!


	2. Roil in the Ruins

Chapter 2: Roil in the Ruins

Pompeii, 1994, early November (Scene Continued)

Smoke was rising from the tunnels, pouring out onto the street. It was bright outside, without a cloud in the sky. People coughed.

John was hiding in an alcove with the other students he had managed to guide from the burning school. Pressed against the cool shadowed side of a building, he watched for any sign of more survivors. Nineteen minutes had passed. Liam would arrive any second.

While he waited, he watched the square. A man holding a torch in one hand and a wand in the other rose to stand on a stage. John's eyes narrowed, as he recognized the man giving a speech. Gianni Salazar. A former classmate of his at Schola Magicae, ranked fourteenth out of the school's two hundred students. Blue eyes, blond hair, and a hatred for anything 'tainted' by muggle, foreign, or non-human influences. This teen would have been one of the first to enlist for Grindelwald's army.

Suddenly, the sound of rubble moving drew his attention away from the pulpit. The stones filling a nearby collapsed hallway were slowly pushed away to reveal Liam, with a few more students behind him. John recognized them as well. It seemed Gianni had organized his attack on the school better than one would expect. Apparently, none of the students who needed rescuing were Italian purebloods. Interesting.

"John, you good?" Liam asked. "I'm sorry I'm a minute late, I had to dig through a fair bit of rubble to get Toby out."

"No worries, I'm just glad you're all safe," John replied quickly. "How many did we lose?"

"Not counting all the purebloods who were mysteriously home for the weekend?" Liam clarified. "Too many. I boosted my mage sight on my way out, there were no living magical signatures left in the entire school. I'm fairly sure that those of us standing here are the only survivors."

One of the girls John had rescued fell to her knees. Silent tears streamed from her eyes, which became iridescent, dancing through different colors before settling on a muted hazel.

"How are you magic-wise?" Liam asked. "Can you get everyone further away?"

"I should be able to get all eight of us at least three miles, but then I'll need to rest for at least a few hours." John replied.

"Three miles should be enough. I'm thinking due West, escape on the coastline. Is anyone injured?" Liam asked.

The students all began to speak at once in hushed voices. Toby had a headache, a twisted ankle, and ringing in his ears. Sasha was feeling the effects of the fire and ready to collapse. John was covered in dirt but otherwise fine. Liam had lost his coat and most of his shirt but was likewise unharmed, not that there had been much doubt. When Naomi stood it was clear her collarbone was bruised if not worse. The others had similar injuries, but none that were life-threatening.

"Alright, John, would you bring us to the coast?" Liam asked. He seemed focused on the situation.

The chanting resumed from the crowd. Liam seemed to notice their presence for the first time.

"What are they up to?" he asked John.

"Liam, we've got to go," John pleaded again, reminded of Liam's reluctance to leave the side of their headmaster.

"Is Salazar over there?" Liam asked in a deadly calm voice.

John looked to the ground, defeated. "Yes," he replied. "He's leading them, giving a speech on the pulpit."

"Excellent," Liam said. "Keep everyone in the shadows. I will avenge Headmaster Malfoy."

Liam's eyes, already a bright violet, began to glow. The air crackled with electricity, and he drew the sword from his hip. He waded into the crowd.

The people were still listening to Gianni's ranting and raving at the pulpit.

"For too long, half-breeds, mudblods, and foreigners have been allowed to attend this prestigious university, dragging those of us with noble birth down to their level. They act as if they are our equals, as if they could ever hope to stand at the heights our breeding has lifted us." he screamed, spittle flying out of his mouth. "That imbecile Jean-Claude Malfoy allowed anyone with magic and a pulse into that school."

"That would explain how you got in," a voice called.

The crowd parted to show Liam standing with a sword drawn. A round of gasps echoed through the crowd and off the brick buildings of the alley before jeering started again.

Gianni Salazar was outraged. "How are you still alive? You were supposed to die in that fire with the rest of the scum."

Liam's eyes glowed even brighter.

"I was lucky," Liam answered. "But for you to speak of scum is very, very rich."

"How dare you," Gianni exclaimed. "Speak to your betters like that again and I'll kill you!"

"If you had said that before today I'd have laughed at you," Liam replied sadly. "up until today you were nothing but a bigoted nuisance. Now though, I've no doubt you'll try to kill me, in much the same way that you slaughtered over a hundred children today. Children who bore you no ill will, who had committed no crime, and who sought only to get an education."

"They committed the crime of being born!" shouted Gianni, with spittle flying from his mouth. "Those lowlifes had no business soiling this once great school and nation with their dirty blood!"

Liam could see the crowd was agreeing with what Gianni was saying. They jeered at Liam, and although his palpable aura kept them from trying to attack him, he could tell he wasn't convincing anyone.

"You truly believe that anyone of impure blood is inferior to you?" Liam asked Gianni.

"Of course!" he replied. "No foreigner or mudblood or gods forbid half-breed could ever hope to match the might of a true Italian pureblood!"

"Then surely you'll be able to defeat me," Liam responded.

At this Gianni paused, visibly paling. He may have been a good student, but he certainly wasn't the best at Schola Magicae. Liam may have been. He'd occupied the salutatorian spot at the school since his third month there and had showed no signs of letting it go. Moreover, he was known to be a powerful duelist in his own right, competing only in blackout duels. Duels where the combatants are bound to silence and no spectators are allowed.

As Gianni thought this, the crowd began to cheer. Liam looked around, disgusted. For a group so intent on being above those around them, they all seemed like filthy mongrels to him. The slaughter of over two hundred innocent children and teachers wasn't enough for these people, now they needed to see a duel to the death as well.

"I, Liam O'Brien, challenge you, Gianni Salazar, to an honor duel," Liam said.

"Do you have a grievance worthy of such a challenge?" Gianni asked back, hoping for some way to worm himself out of this conflict.

Liam's eyes narrowed, the violet light coming through them becoming blinding.

"Genocide," he snarled. "My terms are no seconds, no restrictions, full contact, to the death."

The crowd, at hearing that Liam's terms allowed dark magic and that this would be a fight to the death, cheered even louder. Less and less smoke was pouring from the catacombs and tunnels, and the sky was beginning to clear. The golden light of the setting sun gave Gianni's white-blond hair an ethereal quality, while that same light cast the sword in Liam's hand with an orange luster. Gianni seemed to realize that he had no option but to fight.

"Fine, half-breed." Gianni replied. "If you are truly so eager to die, I, Gianni Salazar, accept your challenge to an honor duel."

At his confirming words, they each felt a slight pull on their magic. A ring of green flame encircled the two combatants. Above this short wall of flame a dome of shimmering magic enclosed them, ensuring that none would get in or out.

Gianni assumed a traditional dueling stance. Liam stood with his sword ready. They could each feel the magic of the arena holding them back, slowly waning such that the duel could start silently.

As the last of the restrictive magic disappeared, Gianni led with a silent curse. It left an ugly black trail in the air as it sailed past Liam, who had sidestepped. The barrier rippled under the impact of the curse.

"Coming right out the gate with the illegal curses, eh?" Liam asked. "It suits you, I must say."

"Shut up and die!" Gianni shouted again, casting hurling another curse toward Liam's legs. This one was a sickly yellow color.

Liam jumped over this curse as he continued to run towards his opponent. This time, he responded with a small blast of lightning out of his palm. Gianni dodged it, sidestepping in such a way that he was brought even closer to Liam.

Gianni answered the blast of lightning with a curse many in the crowd recognized. It was a red spell called a ribbon cutter, known not just for killing humans but for dicing boulders that it hit. Liam seemed unfazed as he rolled under the crinkle-crankle bolt of red light, and this time pushed off the ground with his feet leaving his roll. He flew through the air in a slow flip, closing the rest of the distance to Gianni.

Liam landed with one foot on the ground and the other planted firmly into Gianni's right shoulder. Gianni spun with the impact, his grip loosening on his wand. As he recovered and made to cast another curse, Liam ducked and swept his feet out from under him with a low kick. Gianni's wand skittered a few feet away as he hit the cobblestones, and blood oozed from his mouth. His shoulder felt like it could have been dislocated as well. Liam aimed the tip of his sword at Gianni's throat.

"I yield," Gianni said with diffidence. Liam withdrew his sword and turned towards the assembled crowd.

"Is this your exemplar of competence?" he shouted. "You are so quick to deride those who are different, but clearly, you're no better than the rest of us."

The dueling arena wards still had not gone down. Recognizing this, Gianni scrambled for his wand, hoping Liam wouldn't notice what was happening only a foot behind him. Fortunately for Gianni, Liam continued his address to the bloodthirsty pureblooded crowd outside the barrier.

"I will leave you all with this," Liam said. "You, who are so concerned with your blood, who believe that blood is all it takes to make a great wizard, are foolish and arrogant. If your blood is your only concern, your blood will eventually end up spilled on the ground by a commoner, foreign, mundane-born, half-breed like me."

The crowd jeered, but seemed frightened. Just then, Gianni had finished getting to his feet. He stood a few meters behind Liam, with blood dripping down the white shirt he wore from his nose and mouth. Liam turned to see him standing, and the crowd cheered at the continued effort of their champion.

"You should have killed me when you had the chance, half-breed," said Gianni. "Avada Kedavra!"

A bolt of bright green light raced towards Liam. Surprising the crowd and Gianni, however, he merely leaned towards the curse and bought up his sword, his first use of it during the fight. He slashed through the curse as it reached him, the energy dispersing into the air.

With two more steps forward and a strong one-handed stroke from left to right, Gianni's hope of winning the duel was permanently over. Liam reached forwards and grabbed Gianni by the head, letting his body fall to the ground. Liam held up the bigot's head for the crowd to see, as the dueling wards collapsed. Many had fainted, or were throwing up, or were apoplectic with rage, but none dared to speak or move towards the teen who had just decapitated a man, seemingly without magic.

"**Fulminisque Incendio**," Liam intoned, his eyes still glowing a bright violet. The dark clouds gathered and a bolt of lightning bore down, silhouetting Liam and what remained of Gianni in black and white. When the lightning receded, Liam was standing alone and ash floated away in the wind.

"I think I'm ready to go," Liam announced. He cast a long shadow in the evening sun, which began to ripple as he said these words. Almost immediately, a black-clad arm reached out of his shadow, grabbed his ankle, and pulled him into it. He disappeared from view, leaving a frightened and confused mob behind.

* * *

A mansion in the Romanian countryside, a few days later

John walked briskly down the hallway into the drawing room. The other escapees of Schola Magicae were seated around a long, rectangular table, with Liam at the head. John took his seat at Liam's right, across from Sasha, who was looking a lot better since the incident.

"Thank you all for waiting for me to recover before deciding on what course of action we should take," Sasha began. "Now that everyone is healed though, we should consider what to do next."

"Does everyone want to return to a school?" Liam asked. "Many of us would have little to gain in terms of learning, but the NEWTs do matter, especially if a job employed by the government is important to you. Moreover, I do think there is something to be said for attendance of a school."

Assent for this idea was varied in enthusiasm. Toby and Freya both seemed eager to return to school while John and Sasha seemed more reluctant. Given John's disdain for rules and Sasha's for school in general it made sense. All agreed, though, that returning to a school was the best idea, if perhaps not the most fun or exciting.

"That brings us to the next order of business then," Liam continued. "Where should we attend? Most magical schools are in foreign countries, and few would be willing to allow magical creatures into their halls."

"First, I think it should be established what languages everyone can speak." Sasha added. "I can speak Romanian, Latin, English, and Italian."

"Latin, English, French, Swedish, High Elven," Freya said.

"Latin, English, and Cherokee for me," answered Naomi.

"Just Latin and English," replied Jamie.

"Latin, English, German, Greek, and the rest of Eastern Europe," Toby answered.

"Latin, English, Italian, Arabic, Spanish, and Hindi," said John.

"English, Latin, and Parsel," Liam said, "but I can answer when spoken to in any language."

"It seems there are two common languages," Sasha extrapolated. "There are no other schools that instruct in Latin, but both Hogwarts and Ilvermorny instruct in English."

"Of those, we'd have a much better shot at getting into Hogwarts." Jamie said. "No offense to y'all, but the magical creature ban in America ain't so good for our chances at Ilvermorny. Plus, Hogwarts is hosting that Triwizard thingy right now. Spirit of international cooperation and all that jazz."

"Those are good points," Liam said. "Plus, the current Hogwarts headmaster has a reputation for being very liberal. That should help our case. Should I draft the letter?"

The others all nodded.

"Alright, I'll get on it. Sasha, would you look it over once it's done?" Liam asked.

Sasha agreed, and the rest of the survivors left Liam to his work. A few hours later, he and Sasha had worked out a letter to professor Dumbledore.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_There has recently been an attack on the Italian school of magic Schola Magicae. You may recognize its name as it was conspicuous for allowing in only the most promising students, but also refusing to be discriminatory based on heritage or blood status. An Italian blood purist named Gianni Salazar trapped all students he deemed unworthy in the school and lit the corridors with adamantine fire. Most of the students and staff were killed in the attack. Regrettably, only seven of us survived. We write this letter in the hopes that you would permit us to stay at your school for the remainder of the academic year and be spectators to the Triwizard Tournament in the spirit of international cooperation._

_As a show of good faith, we will inform you in this letter that some of the students in question are not entirely human. One of the policies of the late Headmaster Jean-Claude Malfoy was that students who were less than ninety-five percent human needed not confess their ancestry but must self-identify that they met that criteria. We now extend the same courtesy to you. The seven students are Liam O'Brien, Johannes Umbra, Naomi Locklear, Tobias Nikola, Sasha Dracul, James Jones, and Freya Grahn. Of those seven, Liam, Sasha, and Freya all have significant non-human ancestry. _

_We hope this letter finds you well, and that you and your school will consider hosting us._

_Thank you,_

_Liam O'Brien and Sasha Dracul._

* * *

Hogwarts, The next day.

Headmaster Dumbledore awoke to an interesting letter on his desk. It was addressed to him from the survivors of the massacre at Schola Magicae. He was aware of the massacre of course, his duties to the ICW made sure he was appraised of it almost immediately. The loss of so many promising young lives saddened him greatly. If it were only a matter of housing students who were suddenly without a home, he would accept immediately, however there were other factors to consider. According to eyewitness reports, one of the survivors of the massacre had, after ensuring the escape of several others, immediately challenged the perpetrator of the massacre to an honor duel. Needless to say, Dumbledore disapproved of this. The advancement of the greater good required wrongdoers to be given a chance at redemption, and none were offered to this Gianni Salazar. Moreover, Schola Magicae had been run by a member of the Malfoy family and his husband. Dumbledore wasn't in close contact with the mainland branches of the Malfoy family, but the British branch did not cast the school's administration in a flattering light. Adding further to his consternation was the fact that the students were wanted for questioning by the Italian Ministry. It seemed the Salazar family held the same type of sway in Italy that the Blacks once did in Britain.

It seemed he was making little headway to the problem on his own. Thankfully, he had several others with whom he could discuss the problem. He rose from his desk, donned some of his most lurid robes and meandered to the great hall for breakfast. The elves had been consistently outdoing themselves since the arrival of the competing schools. As he entered the great hall from beside the head table, he saw one Harry Potter sitting alone at the Gryffindor table. Perhaps he should check in with young Harry soon. He did not seem to be taking the abandonment of his friends well. In any event, Dumbledore had arrived at the table, and wished to bring up the letter he had received to both his deputy headmistress and the visiting Madame Maxime.

After a hearty breakfast, he broached the subject with his two colleagues.

"I am loathe to bring up such matters at a meal, but are either of you aware of the events in Italy last weekend?" Dumbledore asked the witches.

"No, what do you mean?" McGonagall asked in reply.

"It is terrible, Dumbly-dorr," Maxime answered. "So many of my favorite students might have attended Schola Magicae for post-graduate studies. Why, my champion, Fleur, almost attended that school instead of Beauxbatons due to her veela ancestry."

"What happened at Schola Magicae?" McGonagall asked again.

"There was a massacre, perpetrated by a young Italian pureblood named Gianni Salazar," Dumbledore answered.

McGonagall gasped and her hands shot to her mouth. "Why would he do such a thing?"

"This school, it was famous for allowing students of mixed or non-pure ancestry. The school had students who came from muggle, foreign, or non-human backgrounds." Maxime answered. "It seems this Gianni Salazar took offense to being outperformed by those he saw as unworthy."

"That's horrible," McGonagall said. "Were there any survivors?"

"That is actually why I brought up the subject," Dumbledore replied. "I received a letter from the survivors today. They are asking to come to Hogwarts, perhaps even to become students here, and to watch the Triwizard Tournament in the spirit of international cooperation."

"You should accept their offer," McGonagall answered immediately.

"Minerva, I'm afraid it's not that simple. Not only do we know nothing about these students, but they are wanted by the Italian ministry for questioning regarding the death of Gianni Salazar." Dumbledore protested.

Maxime immediately grew angry. "If my sources are correct, Salazar not only died in a completely legal honor duel but was killed immediately after he had murdered over a hundred innocent students in cold blood," she said. "Given what is known about the quality of instruction at Schola Magicae, you would be a fool not to welcome these students into your institution with open arms. Rest assured that if you do not accept their request, Beauxbatons will offer it back to them with incentive."

"Fine, fine," Dumbledore placated. "I see your point. I will accept their request. Thank you for your counsel."

He stood, and his embroidered neon yellow robes swished as he retreated to his chambers. He sat at his desk and drafted the following letter.

_Mr. O'Brien and Ms. Dracul,_

_I must admit I was rather surprised to receive your letter. Of course, it is the view of myself and my colleagues here at Hogwarts that the events of last weekend were a tragedy. After a brief consultation with both my deputy headmistress and the visiting headmistress of Beauxbatons, I have decided to accept your request._

_Attached you will find both a yearly curriculum and a list of materials each student should have. I must also inform you about the housing system at Hogwarts. The founders of Hogwarts divided the students amongst their houses based on characteristics that each founder valued. The four houses, if you are not already familiar with the founders, are Gryffindor, Ravenclaw, Hufflepuff, and Slytherin. Gryffindor house values honor and bravery. Ravenclaw house values wit and curiosity. Hufflepuff values amiability and loyalty. Finally, Slytherin house values ambition and cunning. I would request that all seven students arriving at the school complete the very short sorting process and then live with their house. Also, I would ask that your reply contains which year each student would like to be sorted into._

_Finally, I must iterate some concerns I have with your acceptance. The Italian ministry, likely through the influence of the Salazar family, has declared all seven surviving students to be fugitives. This would not normally be an issue, as the British and Italian ministries rarely cross paths. However, I was made aware that the reason for this decree is that one among your number killed Gianni Salazar in an Honor duel. I hope this does not sour your desire to attend my university, but my acceptance of your request is contingent on your adherence with the ban on non-sanctioned dueling within the Hogwarts halls._

_I await your reply and your arrival,_

_Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbledore_

_Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_Supreme Mugwump of the International Confederation of Wizards_

_Chief Warlock of the Wizengamot_

_Order of Merlin, First Class_

* * *

A mansion in the Romanian countryside, a few hours later.

"It seems our reply has arrived," Liam said, gesturing to the phoenix perched on his shoulder with a scroll in its talons.

"Of course the Headmaster of Hogwarts has a pet phoenix, why wouldn't he?" John asked sarcastically.

Fawkes squawked at the implication that he was the professor's pet.

John held up his hands in surrender. "Alright, I'm sure you're just his trusted companion, now, the letter if you would?"

Fawkes allowed John to take the letter from his beak. He trilled a short tune, then departed back to Britain.

"Such a nice bird," Liam commented. "Anyways, we should read that letter with the others."

The two teens strode to the drawing room, where everyone was once again seated around the table.

John handed the scroll to Sasha, who unrolled it and read the headmaster's response. For the first half of the letter, the assembled survivors were happy to hear of their acceptance at Hogwarts. After reading the final paragraph, however, the group was incensed. The headmaster's subtle accusations towards Liam angered everyone, perhaps none more so than Sasha.

"How dare that old man!" Sasha exclaimed. "If he knows Salazar was killed in an honor duel, he knows why!"

"Sasha, I understand your anger," Liam said, "but now is not the time for it. If he wants to throw around baseless accusations, then fine, let him. He is still offering all of us a place at his school, which was the point of this whole endeavor."

"Are you sure we need to?" Sasha asked. "Why can't we just stay at my family's properties?"

"Beyond the obvious effect that being cooped up has had on all of us?" Liam asked, then answered her question. "Not only would all of us feel bad about partaking in your grandfather's continued hospitality, we would still like to take our NEWT exams and go out into the world. We haven't done anything wrong so we shouldn't have to hide."

"Alright," Sasha acquiesced. "But my grandfather really was serious. You saved my life, anything I, he, or any other highborn vampire can do for you, just ask."

"I appreciate it," Liam replied sincerely. "For now, I will reply to our new headmaster."

All the assembled students left the drawing room for one of the lounge areas immediately adjoined to it. Before long, Liam emerged from the drawing room as well, with a smile on his face, letter in his hand, and a smudge of ink on his nose.

"Pack up everyone," he said. "We're headed to Hogwarts."

* * *

Hogwarts, the next morning.

Albus Dumbledore awoke, once again, to a letter from the Schola Magicae survivors on his desk.

_Headmaster Dumbledore,_

_We were all heartened to receive your response. We will acquire all the necessary materials and be at Hogwarts in short order. We eagerly await the sorting ceremony and would all like to take seventh-year classes in preparation for the NEWT exams at the end of the year. We will study our extracurriculars on our own, so there is no need to enroll us in electives._

_To address the point of the honor duel against Gianni Salazar, I will explain my actions. I emerged from the burning wreckage of what had been my home for eight years, to find a mob crowding the street. Leading them was the man who had perpetrated the destruction of my home, and who had just personally ensured the murder of over a hundred innocent people. I challenged him to an honor duel, in which I disarmed him and accepted his surrender. Only after he had stood and cast a killing curse at my back did I kill him, and even then I did so in a quick and relatively painless manner, and gave his body the respect I would to a fallen equal. Given his attempted genocide, I would do the exact same thing again. I trust, however, that you have enough control over your students to prevent them from killing hundreds, and that therefore I will not have cause to duel any of them._

_I will see you Tuesday, with the rest of my surviving classmates._

_Sincerely,_

_Liam O'Brien._

Dumbledore read the reply with some trepidation. He had not meant to anger the contingent of powerful students he would be accepting. Moreover, he was shaken by young Liam's brazen defense of his actions. The point Mr. O'Brien had made at the end of his letter was sound, though. He should be able to rein in his students enough not to provoke violence.

* * *

A/N: And a second chapter is done! Sorry for the delay.

As promised, here is the Latin used:

fulminis, fulminis (full-me-niece) - lightning

-que (suffix) (quay) - with or and

incendio, incendere (in-ken-dee-oh, in-ken-day-ray)- to burn


	3. Discontinuation

Hi everyone, sorry for the long downtime between chapters, and thanks for the support on this story. Unfortunately, I've found myself without the desire to continue it. I'll leave it on my page for posterity's sake, but there won't be any future updates after this one.

I am discontinuing this story because I realized that all my favorite elements were the parts I had created myself, and that writing Hogwarts was really difficult for me. For that reason, I think I'm going to work on the magic system a little so that it isn't too derivative of the HP magic system, and then try to make it a standalone story in its own universe, maybe on Fictionpress or something. If the idea's good enough and I can get some of my friends to help me with it, it might even become a book, who really knows? Anyway, I liked writing my characters that I had created, but writing Harry was really hard for me and writing standard school interactions at Hogwarts was nearly impossible, as you might see in this chapter. I am leaving the chapter unfinished, but I will post what I had in case anyone wants to read it.

Thank you.

Hogwarts, 1994, The second Tuesday in November

Harry was having a shitty day.

He had woken up on the wrong side of the bed to overhear Ron conspiring with Dean and Seamus. He said something about his brother Charlie being at Hogwarts, whatever that meant. In all likelihood, Ron was hoping to waylay Harry's efforts in the rapidly-approaching First Task of the Triwizard Tournament.

He was currently sat at the center of the Gryffindor table, with a few empty meters in any given direction. His house seemed to still wish his exclusion as punishment for his 'participation' in the tournament.

He snorted to himself. His best bet so far was to walk into the ring and forfeit the task. Even with Moody's offer of assistance, he still had no idea what the task would be. Furthermore, he didn't entirely trust the grizzled professor. Something about him seemed off to Harry, and his gut feeling had saved his life numerous times before. If anything, his unease with Moody actually followed the professor's advice of 'Constant Vigilance'.

_At least I have an undisputed claim on whatever food I want,_ Harry chuckled to himself. _I've never had access to so much bacon_. He continued to eat slowly and felt the gaze of someone at the head table. He looked up to see both the sad continence of Professor McGonagall and the twinkling eyes of Professor Dumbledore. He looked back down to his plate, not especially happy with either professor at the moment. Professor Dumbledore hadn't managed to prevent him from ending up in the tournament, and failing that, hadn't even figured out yet how Harry's name had come out of the goblet. Professor McGonagall was a trickier case. He was sure McGonagall's hands were somewhat tied regarding Gryffindor House's conduct, but Harry wasn't in much of a forgiving mood. He just wished at least something was being done.

Interrupting Harry's internal musings, Professor Dumbledore stood and prepared to make an announcement.

"Good morning everyone," he began, "I hope you are all well, that our guests have settled in nicely, and that you are all looking forward to the upcoming First Task."

Harry rolled his eyes as all of the Gryffindors stared at him pointedly.

"I do have a few unrelated announcements to make, however," Dumbledore continued. "I'm sure many of you heard of the tragedy in Italy last week. I will not go into detail, but a few students who found themselves displaced by the events at Schola Magicae will be joining us here at Hogwarts for the rest of the year. They are scheduled to arrive this morning."

This did come as a surprise to Harry. He had assumed that the influx of foreign students had come to a close. He looked over at the Slytherin table, something he had taken to doing recently out of boredom. He spied his yearmates all clumped together in the center of the snakes' table. Greengrass and Davis were talking to each other, no surprise there. They always seemed to keep to themselves, occasionally making the exception to speak briefly with Zabini. Speaking of Zabini, the dark-skinned Italian teen seemed worried by something. He looked almost guilty. Perhaps he knew something about the tragedy the headmaster had mentioned. Malfoy, Parkinson, and Bulstrode were engaged in what seemed like especially gregarious conversation as well, led (as always) by Malfoy. Crabbe and Goyle were there too, of course, looking even stupider than usual.

Harry returned to his own thoughts. Maybe he would try to get to know some of these new students. It sounded like they would be staying in the castle rather than their own lodgings somewhere on the grounds. To his chagrin, he realized he had not tried to speak to even one of the foreign students yet. Giving himself the benefit of the doubt, they weren't very likely enamored with his participation in the tournament, and he was busy preparing. Either way, he decided he would make a solid effort to speak to these new students. Who knew, maybe he would even become friends with one of them.

He was interrupted once again by a loud knock on the door of the great hall. The boisterous atmosphere disappeared instantly, replaced by an anticipatory silence as each student from all three schools leaned towards the doors to get a first glimpse of the new students.

"Headmaster Dumbledore," a voice called from the other side of the great hall's doors, "We have arrived. May we enter?"

"Yes, of course," came the reply from the Headmaster. Dumbledore stood and brandished his wand. He was about to open the doors when they creaked open without his interference.

_I wonder how heavy those doors are,_ Harry thought to himself, looking towards the four new arrivals.

In the front stood a tall boy with brown hair, dressed in a navy suit with a white tee shirt and white sneakers. He also wore a sword on his hip and a black cape which attached at his shoulders and flowed down his back, ending behind his ankles. He appeared athletic, and his violet eyes seemed to glow. There was a bat perched on one of his shoulders.

At his left was a shorter and considerably more muscular boy dressed in what looked like some type of khaki-colored military uniform. This boy had blue eyes and buzzed hair. Very little skin was exposed from underneath the uniform, but his wrists and hands appeared to be laden with tattoos. He looked like one Harry would rather not cross.

At the right of the four new students stood a pretty blond-haired girl with delicate features. She was dressed in cream-colored robes and she too carried a sword on her hip. Her sword looked decidedly slimmer than that of the first boy though.

_Why don't we learn to use swords here? _Harry mused again. _I'd certainly like to learn to use the Sword of Gryffindor better. Maybe one of them would teach me._

The rear of the group was the most visibly interesting though, and would surely make Hagrid cry with joy. The boy was of about average height and build, with dirty blond hair, and dressed like a cowboy. This was all intriguing in its own right, but the elephant he was riding was considerably more eye-catching. It was enormous and its grey hide looked like it could withstand just about anything.

_So these are the new students. They all seem very … unique._ Headmaster Dumbledore thought to himself. His thoughts were unknowingly mirrored by much of the student body. _Where are the other three students, did they decide against attending, I wonder?_

"Mr. O'Brien, I assume?" Professor Dumbledore asked the boy in the suit. At the teen's nod, he continued, "Where are the rest of your comrades? I was of the impression that seven of you would be arriving."

The identified 'Mr. O'Brien' smirked. "They are right here, Headmaster," he replied.

He reached for his cape with one arm and threw it off in a spinning motion. The bat flew off of his shoulder. The cowboy in the back dismounted the elephant.

The bat, elephant, and cape all swirled to reform into three more students. The bat reformed as a pale girl with dark hair in a somewhat low-cut black dress. The elephant became a cheerful-looking brunette with darker skin wearing a yellow sundress. The cape spiraled a bit more before reforming, but once it had a gangly black-haired boy emerged wearing a black trench coat and combat boots.

"I am Liam O'Brien," the boy in the suit declared, both to the hall and to the headmaster. He then introduced his comrades. "These are-,"

He indicated the boy in the military uniform, "Tobias Nikola,"

The blond-haired girl, "Freyalise Islerose,"

The cowboy, "James Jones,"

The black-haired girl, "Sasha Dracul,"

The native American girl, "Naomi Locklear,"

And the boy in black, "Johannes Umbra,"

"We thank you for your hospitality, and hope we succeed in embracing the spirit of international cooperation by making many friends and integrating ourselves to Hogwarts over the coming year."

Professor Dumbledore seemed to overcome his surprise at the sudden appearance of the final three students, and withdrew the sorting hat from behind his seat, conjuring a stool in the front and center of the great hall.

"If you would all come to the front here and take turns sitting on the stool, I will place the sorting hat on your head. It will read your thoughts and emotions to discover where you would fit best among Hogwarts' houses." Professor Dumbledore elucidated, "In keeping with tradition, you will be sorted in alphabetical order of your last name. Miss Dracul, if you would?"

Sasha stepped towards the headmaster and allowed the hat to be placed over her head. It seemed to give the sorting some thought, certainly much more than any first-year. After some thought of his own, Harry concluded that it must be harder to sort an older student who would have more thoughts and memories, and a stronger sense of self. After some time, Miss Dracul was sorted into Slytherin.

Next was Freyalise. She was sorted into Gryffindor after a similar period of contemplation by the sorting hat. Seeing the empty space around Harry, she quickly came to join him at the Gryffindor table.

"Nice to meet you," she said. "You already heard my name, but what's yours?"

Harry looked at her, stumped for a few moments. It was the first time since entering the magical world that he had met someone who didn't instantly recognize him. It was somewhat liberating, actually.

"I'm Harry," he replied quickly. "You may not want to be around me right now, though, the rest of the house is avoiding me."

"You're not contagious with some disease, are you?" she asked. "I'd hate to get sick on my first day here."

"No, I wish that were all it was," Harry replied sadly. "They've all got it into their heads that I entered myself into the Triwizard Tournament."

"Ah, I can see why that would upset them," she conceded. "I can tell from your tone that you didn't enter yourself, though, so I think I'll stay right where I am."

Harry blushed, and was about to protest when another of the new arrivals sat down with them. It was the gruff-looking one in the military uniform.

"Toby, meet Harry," Freyalise bubbled, "Harry, meet Toby."

Harry and Tobias exchanged nods and a look of appraisal.

"Oh, come on, you're such boys," Freyalise protested. Some mirth danced in the eyes of Tobias, but he still declined to say anything. Harry understood his meaning and his introduction fine, though. He reached out his hand to meet a firm handshake from Toby.

"Pleasure to meet you," he said.

"Da," Toby replied in a thick Slavic accent. "You as well."

"That's it? That's all the conversation you can muster?" Freyalise pouted. "Toby, where do you think the others will be sorted? I think Liam will be here and John will go to Slytherin."

"No," Toby disagreed simply, "both go to Ravenclaw."

"What? I guess you've known them longer than me but come on! House of the brave for Liam, and the cunning for John?" Freyalise argued.

"We shall see," Tobias said, just in time to be proven right about Liam by the hat's shout of 'Ravenclaw'. He smirked and watched as John ambled up to the stool. He too quickly joined the eagles at the table in blue and bronze.

Freyalise was dumbfounded. How could the boy who had pulled her, Toby, and Sasha from the wreckage of Schola Magicae be anything but brave. And Johannes, who had slunk around in shadows the entire time she had known him, had certainly struck her as cunning. _Oh well, _she thought to herself. _I'll just ask them tomorrow._

"Where are both of you from?" Harry asked. "The students already here at Hogwarts are pretty much all from Britain."

"I do not know where I am from," Tobias answered candidly. "Somewhere in Eastern Europe."

"I'm sorry," Harry quickly assured. "I didn't mean to offend-,"

"It is nothing," Toby responded. "You did not know and I do not care."

"I'm from Sweden," Freyalise interjected. "My family is one of the oldest in Scandinavia, and we trace ourselves all the way back before the Vikings."

"Wow," Harry replied. "You must have a very rich family history then. I'm sure you'd make a lot of the Slytherins jealous."

"Why is that?" Freyalise questioned.

"The whole house is really big on blood purity and genealogy," Harry answered, making a face. "Bullshit if you ask me, but hey."

"I'm sure you're right they'd be jealous," Freyalise said. "Blood purity isn't quite the fairytale you make it out to be though. There is real proof that magical power and traits are passed through generations, especially those acquired from magical being ancestors like parseltongues or metamophs."

"Even if that's true, it still isn't right to attack muggleborns," Harry argued, starting to become heated.

"I didn't say it was right to attack them," Freyalise replied. "I just said that muggleborns are likely to be less powerful. After school, magical power is only important in a few careers and for self-defense. If you're expecting to work at a desk and live in a safe area, it doesn't make a difference."

"I guess that makes sense," Harry conceded. "If that's true, why was my mother heralded as the brightest witch of her generation, despite being a muggleborn."

"First of all, I'd say anyone who told you that was likely very fond of your mother," Freyalise answered. "Also, they said 'brightest' not 'strongest' or 'most talented'. She could have just been very smart. Furthermore, one of the biggest problems muggleborns face is their own attitudes towards magical culture. If she didn't offend people with disdain for wizarding customs, I'm sure people were willing to look on her in a much more favorable light."

_I guess that's why no one takes Hermione seriously,_ Harry thought to himself. _I should tell her._ _I'll be sure to – oh, that's right. We aren't speaking. Her loss, then._

"Why the long face?" Freyalise probed.

"Remembering a former friend," Harry replied, "one whom I cut ties with after my name came out of the goblet."

"Bad friend then," said Toby. "Good friends stick by you."

"I guess so," said Harry. "I'll just have to make new ones. Spirit of international cooperation and all that."

"There you go," Freyalise replied happily.

Ravenclaw dormitories, that night

"This here is the Ravenclaw common room," Roger Davies supplied helpfully. "The eagle knocker here will tell you a riddle, and you must answer it correctly before you are allowed entry."

The ornate bronze eagle turned to John.

"Why did the scarecrow win the Nobel Prize?" the knocker asked in a raspy voice.

"He was out standing in his field," John answered, smirking.

The eagle and wall faded from sight to reveal an archway into a library. Roger Davies stepped in, ostensibly giving Liam and John a tour.

"The common room is modeled after a library. We have bookshelves on all the walls, and ladders to get to any books you can't reach. All the rooms are doubles and are arranged to be integrated into the library. Much like the Slytherins, we allow you to modify your rooms any way you would like as long as your roommate agrees. Your room will be down that way, between the authors Fitzgerald and Fleming in the muggle literature section." Davies continued. "We also have some study spaces, two dueling lanes, and an enchanting workshop. Feel free to use any of those amenities, and if you need anything, come to me or another prefect for help."

"Thank you, we'll be sure to do that," Liam answered. "For now, I think we'll go get situated in our room, but we'll be back to mingle soon."

Davies nodded and left them to their business.

Liam and John entered their new room to find a somewhat spartan setup. Two plain but comfortable-looking beds, two large desks, two closets, and a bathroom. There was no natural light, and the ground was a hard marble.

"Man, we need to get Tobias and Jamie in here," John remarked. "This place is spartan."

"I agree," Liam replied. "It will serve for its intended purpose fine though, even as-is. Just lacks character."

Liam and John unpacked their things into the dressers and closets. They returned to the center of the library where the other students could be heard chattering quietly. The noise ceased as they arrived.

"Can we help you?" John asked, looking around.

There was a beat, and then questions were flying towards Liam and John without mercy.

"What is magical Italy like?"

"How was your old school? Surely it can't compare to Hogwarts, but I'm sure it was still grand."

"Is it true you two were the ones who rescued the others? How did you do it? What magic did you use?"

"Did you really kill someone in a duel? What did you bribe the headmaster with to let you into the school?"

It was the last question that irked John. Liam seemed unbothered by the slight on his character.

"We didn't bribe the headmaster or offer him anything," Liam calmly replied. "He seems to fancy himself a magnanimous individual, and moreover, a good person. He allowed us to attend a school when we had nowhere else to go. No more, and no less."

"If you're really as dangerous as the Italian ministry claims, then you shouldn't be allowed near normal people like us," the same student, a somewhat pretty girl of Asiatic descent, argued angrily. "First there was that whole debacle with the Heir of Slytherin, then Sirius Black and dementors on the loose, now these seven mysterious students from a foreign school. When will the dangers end?"

John looked ready to strike the particularly rude fifth-year, but Liam held up a hand and he subsided.

"I will tell you the same thing I told the headmaster when he raised these concerns to me," Liam answered. "When I dueled Gianni Salazar, I observed all the relevant laws regarding a wizards' duel. Even if I hadn't dueled by the letter of the law, I had just emerged from the burning wreckage of my home to see the smiling face of a genocidal maniac. So long as none of you go about killing your classmates en masse, I'm sure we'll have no problems."

The girl made to retort, but was stopped by Roger Davies and the other prefects, who had finally arrived to the commotion.

"Please return to your dorm, Chang," Davies asked. "As for the rest of you, I'm sure Misters O'Brien and Umbra would be happy to answer questions of a more academic nature than a personal one."

John nodded to Davies to show his assent to the way the situation was diffused. Liam and John then ambled over to one of the corner couches in the lounge area and sat down. They would field questions related to magic for the rest of the evening, but nothing so confrontational.

The Hufflepuff Dormitories, simultaneously.

"And welcome to Hufflepuff," Cedric Diggory said as he finished speaking. James and Naomi thanked the boy and entered the common room. Though they didn't yet know it, they received a very similar reception to that of Liam and John. The common room's chatter quieted, and some of their housemates approached them. A pretty redheaded student beckoned them towards her in a circle of couches. They walked over and sat down.

"Hi!" she said brightly. "My name's Susan Bones, nice to meet both of you."

James reached out a hand, "Jamie Jones."

Susan shook his offered hand and turned to Naomi.

"Naomi Locklear," she said. "Pleasure to meet you."

Just then, another girl of about the same age as Susan sat down.

"Hey Sue," she said. Then she turned to the new students. "Sorry to be so forward, but how did you transform into an elephant in the great hall? Are you an animagus?"

"Not exactly," Naomi replied. "My family is descended from Native American warlocks who invented a special kind of magic for turning into animals. It's essentially an old family magic. I can't really tell you much more than that about it."

"Ah, that's too bad. It's a really cool ability. My name's Hannah by the way," the blond girl added.

"Anyway, what's the deal with the seven of you?" Susan asked. When the foreign students tensed up, she addended, "I don't mean whatever tragedy the headmaster was talking about. You just seem like a very eclectic bunch. None of you wear normal robes, two of you can turn into animals, one can turn into a piece of clothing, and two more carry swords!"

Jamie and Naomi chuckled. "It's true we're an odd bunch of misfits, I'll give you that," Jamie replied. "It probably has a lot more to do with Schola Magicae than any of us though."

"What do you mean by that?" Hannah asked.

"Schola Magicae is an old school, just like Hogwarts. What's different though is the way it accepts students. There are a lot of students, just like here, who get in by being rich, pureblooded, or otherwise connected. These students tend to be 'normal' witches and wizards with solid all-around magical competence but no striking special qualities," Jamie explained. "Most, if not all, of Hogwarts' students would fall into that category. Potentially intelligent or talented, but not particularly interesting magically. By the way, that's not a diss at Hogwarts' students, because I think a lot of that lack of diversity lies on the school's shoulders rather than those of the students."

Hannah and Susan nodded to show that they were following along so far.

"The difference at Schola Magicae, however, was undertaken under the leadership of the most recent headmaster. About sixty years ago, when Headmaster Malfoy first ascended to his position, he created a separate acceptance bracket to the school for those with special or unique magical talents, and even those who were foreign or had heritage from Magical creatures."

"That's very interesting," Susan said. "Are there issues caused by admitting magical creatures to the school?"

"Yes, but those issues are not perpetrated by the magical creatures," Naomi answered. "Most of the nonhumans at the school were just very glad to be there. They tended to focus on their studies and maybe a few extracurricular activities, but they were never the ones starting fights in corridors or playing mean pranks. All the discontent came from Italian purebloods who didn't want to be sharing tables with nonhumans."

"Which unfortunately brings us back to how we ended up here. To make a long and bloody story extremely short, the 'normal students' organized an attack on all the 'special students'," Jamie said grimly. "They succeeded in most of their goals, including bringing down the section of the school where all the foreign, mundane-born, and nonhuman students lived. Liam and John rescued the other five of us from the wreckage. We were all in that second category of students accepted for a specific magical talent."

"I guess that explains it," Susan answered. "I'm sorry to make you tell that tale, I didn't mean to dredge up any bad memories."

Jamie waved off her concerns. "It's fine. It's just a little fresh right now is all."

Susan and Hannah looked to each other, then turned back to the foreign students.

"Would you like us to take you to your rooms?" they asked.

"That would be great," Naomi replied.

"Hufflepuff rooms are all part of a suite," Hannah began to explain chipperly. "There are four rooms to a suite. Even though you guys are in seventh year, you're actually adjoined to the two of us, because the seventh year is an exact multiple of four people."

"Here we are," said Susan, pushing open a door into a smaller common area with four rooms coming off of it.


End file.
